“I broke my parole this morning,” said Ned.
“I know it, sir,” said Jackson; “and, having some compunction for your violation of honor, you have tried as a manœuvre giving yourself up again. You have made a mistake, sir.”
“It is just because I knew you would misconstrue my motive and my action thus that I asked to see you,” said Ned. “I wish to explain.”
“No explanation is possible, sir,” cried Stonewall Jackson; “and this will avail you nothing.”
“Oh! wait a moment,” cried Ned, impetuously. “Don’t deceive yourself. I know what I am doing; I knew a few hours ago, when I left the Union lines, what I was doing. I came here to die,—to be shot! Do you hear,—to be shot! I broke my parole; I expected no mercy from you,—I ask for none, I would take none. I claim only my right, and my right is death.”
“Then why did you give yourself up, if you knew death must be your fate?” asked Jackson.
“Death has not frightened me very much,” said Ned, contemptuously.
“There is something about you,” said Stonewall Jackson, “which makes me wish to respect you. I see you are not a coward.”
“And I wish you to see that I am not a liar,” answered Ned. “I gave myself up to death; and I wish you to bear witness, that, having sinned, I accepted the penalty.”